


The Little Boy and his Harry Potter Book

by OMG_Orlaith



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hamish - Freeform, Hamish Watson-Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 20:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OMG_Orlaith/pseuds/OMG_Orlaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamish Holmes-Watson is very ill, and has been his entire life. But now, all too soon, his time has come to leave, and this is his story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Little Boy and his Harry Potter Book

A Little Boy lies on his bed, reading his new book. It’s the seventh Harry Potter book, and his dad got it for him for Christmas. Reading is one of his favourite hobbies.  
With a jolt, he straightens up as soon as he sees the doctor entering the room. His bed (the same bed as all the other children in the ward have) is big enough for him, but perhaps not big enough for his doctor as well. He wriggles around to make room for her, and she smiles.  
His fathers are here. They gaze upon their son with eyes filled with a mixture of concern and adoration, and a fierce protectiveness that comes with being a parent. Their child is ill, you see, and has been for his entire life. But this is different and quite scary for the Little Boy, because this time there’s a lot more machines beside his bed and he gets visits from nurses every hour. This is bad, and he knows it well, despite his fathers’ attempts at concealing it from him.  
He doesn’t let them see his fear, however.

“Hamish is ok...he’s alright, Clara.” His dad John whispers, on the phone to the Little Boy’s aunt. “He’s very brave, as always.” His father Sherlock stares at nothing in particular, arms crossed and lost in thought. “I have to go, Clara. His doctor’s here...yeah, yeah, tell mum I said hello...thanks, bye.” The phone is snapped shut and put into his dad’s pocket. There are no distractions now, and his doctor begins to talk.

Even though he is told that he is very smart for his age, the Little Boy doesn’t understand what they are talking about. They use really big words, and he is only seven years old. He doesn’t understand.  
What he does pick up from their discussion is their voices. They sound worried, and rather disappointed. Dad John is arguing with the doctor, asking her to do something. Dad Sherlock is looking pale and a little sick, but remains silent, and this time focuses his gaze on him. Dad Sherlock smiles half-heartedly, and holds his hand. He doesn’t feel as worried now.  
But then, the Little Boy hears something that alarms him.

“A few days left...” The doctor says. 

A few days to do what?  
Upon hearing this, both Dads look away from the doctor with faces that are filled with heartbreak. They turn to their son, who with just over seven years on this planet had turned their lives upside down in the best way possible, and try to smile to make him feel better. It doesn’t really work.

The next day, the Little Boy has a visitor. He likes his visitor a lot, even though he has to stop reading to talk to her. Molly is very bright and very funny, and he thinks she’s very pretty too. She brings him a big bag of sweets, and with the same look on her face that his fathers had yesterday, begins to talk to him. She talks about everything: about his toys, about his fathers, and about his books.

“Harry Potter, huh? It looks like you’re enjoying it, Hamish.”   
She grins widely, and he returns the smile.

“I’m nearly finished it too, Molly. And I’ve only had it for two weeks.”   
She looks impressed, and he blushes bright red.

As she is about to leave, Molly hugs him, and tells him that she loves him. It wouldn’t be the last time this happens.  
The Little Boy receives many visitors the following day. Aunty Clara comes to visit, and says some jokes that he doesn’t understand, which causes Dad John to sigh angrily and to remind Aunty Clara that the jokes are too inappropriate for a seven year old. She chuckles.

Uncle Mycroft comes to visit him, and lets him wear the badge that Mycroft so proudly displays every time they go to one of his “special ceremonies” with the Queen. He has always wanted to wear that badge, and he decides to pretend to be his Uncle. He speaks in a posh voice and pretends to wave like the Queen. Uncle Mycroft laughs more than he has laughed in a very long time.

Soon after Uncle Mycroft leaves, it is just the Little Boy and his dads left in the room. They sit beside his bed and hold his hands. They talk to him about how he might have to go away soon. The Little Boy is frightened. He’s never been away from home before. His dads tell him that it’s like sleeping, and that it’s so painless and peaceful that some people call it “passing away”.   
Breathing is becoming very sore for him, and nurses have to come in every few minutes. Some bring medicine, some bring needles, and one brings him his teddy, which is nice. Once they give him the medicine, he feels very cosy indeed. Dad Sherlock offers to read him the last of the Harry Potter book. There are only a few pages left, you see. 

He asks his dads if they are going to stay tonight, to which they reply that they are. They tell him that they will never really leave, and with tears in their eyes, they tell him they love him very much, and always will. Dad Sherlock reads him the last of the Harry Potter book.

That night, the Boy, lying half-asleep in his bed, remembers. He remembers his fathers, and what they told him. They told him about going to sleep; about the land of dreams, about the world without pain. He likes the sound of this.

Taking his final breath, he squeezes his fathers’ hands. With a small smile on his face, he closes his eyes.

And off to sleep he goes.


End file.
